Chapter Text
The soft rosy scent on your shirts
gave way to the stench of heavy smoke.
Someone must have poured boiling water over him, because why else did his skin start burning? It crushed him to see Minho falling out of love.
What used to be a constant strength for Seungmin gradually faded away, revealing the stone cold emptiness in its place. His husband’s promises of tomorrow were long gone, becoming a faraway memory that Seungmin couldn’t hold onto anymore.
While keeping his heart in the palm of Minho’s rough hands, he’d slowly lost his light to the one who pushed him away first.
Even then, with the marriage quickly crumbling like a house of cards in the wind, Seungmin tried to see the bright side of things.
The first time Minho came back with a stench of alcohol, Seungmin pinned it on the obligatory work gatherings that were part and parcel of Seoul's working class life. There was never a chance at promotion if you sat out of one of those social events. Something about drinking and gossiping, grovelling at their boss’s feet all night, fed their big egos and kept companies alive. It was ridiculous in Seungmin’s eyes, but what could he do as one measly middle school teacher amongst the sea of them, without connections, nor achievements to boast. And so he sat quietly on the couch, regarding his husband with quiet understanding, and helping him to get ready for bed.
The next few times, it got worse. There was a ruckus that signalled Minho’s late arrival into the apartment - dress shoes flung onto the clean floor of their living room and tie haphazardly strewn onto the floor with his dirty socks, just for him to collapse beside a half-asleep Seungmin on the couch. The putrid smell of cigarette smoke and soju mixed into the cool indoor air, stinking up the place in seconds. Seungmin still helped to clean up behind his husband, changing the man’s clothes despite his obvious distaste, and lugging him back to their bedroom to sleep beside him. He’d muttered some curses at this boss, and some other client who’d been messing with them, before succumbing to a fitful sleep.
Seungmin could even look past all of those drunk habits that brought a frown to his face. Because he knew that at the end of the day, Minho was not defined by his small brash moments after work. He was a caring, kind husband who gave Seungmin so much to be happy about. The morning kisses, although they were becoming rare and rushed, were still there. (Barely there.) The night cuddles ended with a stolen blanket and Seungmin kicked off to one side, but Minho later apologised for itm so it was fine. (Only after Seungmin confronted him a few days later, unimpressed by the inconsiderate behaviour). There was still love between them, Seungmin was sure of it. Even when the quality time dwindled into short snippets of affection, he could live with it because he treasured every small thing that Minho would do for him. It showed that the man still loved him, and Seungmin just wanted to believe it.
And then the following few times in recent months, when Minho started drinking almost every night, drowning himself in dangerous amounts of the liquid, Seungmin treated him with the same kindness. When Minho said some hurtful words that Seungmin would never admit had hurt him, the younger man just brushed it off. It was drunk words, people said all sorts of nonsense when they were tipsy. No big deal.
But it did hurt. Minho went on and on about how Seungmin was living the easy life teaching a bunch of dumb kids at school, never having seen the hard life that Minho was facing. Then came talks about his flaws, the most banal insecurities he’d once opened up to his husband about. The abandonment issues he’d faced when his dad left the family behind, rotting in jail for some fucked up shit his bros did. The guilt of leaving his mum in the countryside so that he could earn a better wage and let her live a little easier. And the fear of being looked down on by their competitive society that valued results and outcomes over a learning process.
Minho poked at every corner that hurt, thoughtless comments burning deep wounds into Seungmin’s heart.
But he was so deeply buried in the idea of love that he’d let Minho crush him to bits. He took everything with a pained smile, ushering his man back to bed at the end of a long day, and forcing himself to forget all the ‘lies’ that were spoken by his lover. The person whom he chose to devote forever to, screening every worried phone call from Seungmin because he felt suffocated by him. And the person he once trusted, spinning on his heels and storming out of the room when Seungmin asked where he had been for the past few nights of coming back way past 12am. It was like the new job took away the Minho whom he loved so dearly, leaving a heartless shell of a man. The ghost of Minho’s love lingered on the cold side of the king-sized bed, staining the sheets with miserable tears and despairing cries.
Seungmin’s life became worse than the dreams that he had every night, of their younger, happier selves who were once full of life and love. Long gone was the excitement of sleeping next to his husband with endless cuddles and soft kisses. Now, Seungmin was a homeless man with a roof over his head - he had lost everything.
That night, alone again in the vast space of their master bedroom, Seungmin knew he had only one choice to make. He could not let himself sink deeper into the dark waters of failure and rejection. The failure of a husband, who could not gain the affections of the one he was wedded to, forgotten in their room like a miniscule speck of dust at the back of the shelves. And the rejection that Minho had spelt out with every swat at Seungmin’s needy hands when on his wrist, every shove of Seungmin’s chest when he’d stand too close, and every poisonous insult that thoughtlessly flew from his mouth. Out of everything, Seungmin felt like the words hurt most.
At least with physical touch, he could convince himself that Minho was never one to like being touched when he was moody. That much, Seungmin could look past. Yet, there was no denying that when drunk Minho called him annoying, petty, and useless, every word uttered was a reflection of his true thoughts. It showed Seungmin where Minho’s heart lied, beyond the impenetrable wall that Minho had built piece by piece, separating them such that no amount of hacking at the cold concrete could bridge the divide. Minho was gone, for good.
And so Seungmin would not let himself continue to hold on to the rotten piece of rope that was hope. He slashed at the thinning fibres with a dagger, feeling his body plummet into the looming abyss and bracing for himself to hit rock bottom. It felt like he wasn’t so far off anyways. Clinging to the last fraying fibres of that rope for the past year had made his hands burn raw from the friction. His arms were numb from being stuck in the difficult position for so long, shoulders and back aching from the exertion. Seungmin was done climbing back up to the precarious platform of his married life; he let go.
___
The drop was a blur of tears, darkness, voices, and pain. He’d expected it to hurt the way it did when he’d cried himself to sleep almost every night during the past few months. But, moving out from his home and tucking himself away into Felix’s extra bedroom had given him a break from the familiar surroundings of Minho’s apartment. It was almost warm, his best friend offering so much food that Seungmin’s sunken cheeks slowly filled out again. Even when Seungmin had no appetite, Felix just sat by him at the table, talking about god knows what, and offering to do mindless activities together.
Just like that, Seungmin got past the hardest part of the first week. He still cried himself to sleep, waking up with red, swollen eyes and a crusty trail of snot under his nose. But, with the ball of sunshine that Felix naturally was, it got better. The cloying pressure of regrets and longing was less of a crushing boulder on his chest as chunks of it chipped away. It seemed that Felix’s bright self was infectious enough to get Seungmin back up. He forgot about the harsh dirt underneath him, standing up and wading out from his rock bottom.
Seungmin was healing. He felt himself smiling genuinely, no longer a quick quirk of his lips for Felix to see, but actual joy that he hadn’t felt in a long, long while. Seungmin started to believe that he could be happy again.
Not every day was easy, of course. He’d have a blast one day hanging out with Felix and Jeongin, just to wake up the next morning to his lonely, unemployed reality. But, for the most part, he was getting better. He took care of himself, showering at least once a day, making his bed in the morning, cleaning around the house with the heaps of free time that he now had, and even cooking something new for Felix and himself at night. There were many failed concoctions that might’ve been less than ideal for them, but it was nothing he couldn’t laugh over.
This was the life Seungmin needed, away from his toxic obsession over a heartless man, and surrounded by someone who actually wanted him to be happy. Seungmin’s stay extended from days, to weeks, and then to a whole three months. When the cold started to ebb away, encouraging spring flowers to burst their uplifting colours along the roadsides, Seungmin felt the need to move out. His healing journey started off on a good note with Felix’s generous help. Seungmin truly wished to continue wrapping himself up in the warm cocoon that Felix had to offer, but there was a limit to how long he could coop himself up in his friend’s tiny apartment for.
So, two weeks into spring, he packed up the small carrier of items he had brought in, plus many, many new clothes (all thanks to his bestie) and took a cab back home. His family home, located beyond the bustling city of Seoul and back to his single mother. This was home, he knew. He could picture his mother’s weathered features pulling into a disapproving frown when she saw her son back at home without a warning. And he could almost hear her curious questions bubbling up at his jobless, husbandless, and directionless life. But, he was ready to take her loving chiding and painful whacks if it meant being in her arms again, as her only son. Her beautiful, precious baby.